


The Sins of the Father

by prettybirdy979



Series: Elementals [1]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 07:54:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1680584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettybirdy979/pseuds/prettybirdy979
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin has tried all his life to deal with what it means to be an Earth mage that wants to fly- but he knows he's never been enough for his Dad. He just wants his father to be proud.</p><p>George Crieff curses that it's his magic his flight obsessed son inherited, and his magic that has caused so many of Martin's problems. He just wants his son to be happy. He's so proud anyway. </p><p>Or the life and times of Martin and George Crieff, Earth mages with communication issues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sins of the Father

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to PipMer for looking over this, even as what was supposed to be a quick fic turned into a monster. It was going to be a oneshot in Elemental but well, now I realise it's the main fic and Elemental is the universe's oneshots. 
> 
> If there's any questions about the world building in this, just ask. I've got it all figured out.
> 
> Also while I follow the episodes fairly closely towards the end, I'm ignoring the last one of season four as I've no idea how it'll turn out so I'm working with the status quo.
> 
> Thanks to Cabin Pressure Fans for having [transcripts](http://www.cabinpressurefans.co.uk/cabin-pressure-episode-transcripts/) for me to use!

George Crieff took a deep breath and fingered the flower hidden in his cuff. Beside him, his six year old son Martin bounced and admired the wings of the plane barely visible through his window.

Are we flying yet Daddy?’ Martin asked, his eyes wide and excited.

‘No!’ Simon snapped from the other side of George. ‘We’re not moving yet!’

‘Oh.’

‘Yes, oh. Stupi-’

‘Simon.’ George warned, his tone as mild as it could be. ‘Don’t call your brother that.’

‘He started it!’

‘Did not!’ The outraged Martin tried to look around George to stick his tongue out at his brother.

‘Both of you shut it now.’ George said sharply, aware he was overreacting but unable to care. He was moments away from a long period out of his element, he wasn’t in the mood for his boys to fight.

‘Sorry Dad.’ ‘Sorry Daddy.’ They said together and settled back into their seats as the flight attendant started the safety briefing, Martin still faintly bouncing. George took a deep breath and tried to focus on why he was doing this.

The smiles on his children’s faces when he had told them they were going to Disneyland after _years_ of saving was worth the pressure he was going to feel the entire flight over. It wouldn’t even hurt, just make him feel like someone was sitting on his chest and make focusing on anything much impossible.

He fingered the flower again. This was supposed to help according to his father, the only Earth mage George personally knew who had managed to fly. The others called him mad for even wanting to but there had been no other way for them to get to America in the week’s holiday he had managed to get. Besides, Martin had been _more_ excited when he had heard they were flying; his little flier delighted with the chance to see the aeroplanes he loved up close.

‘Daddy, look!’ Martin cried as the plane slowly lifted into the air. ‘We’re flying, we’re flying!’ He bounced some more and George had to smile at his youngest’s enthusiasm. Then the pressure started to settle on his chest as they crept into the sky.   

Beside him, Martin made a confused noise that was almost a whimper. ‘Martin?’ He asked softly. ‘You okay?’

‘I feel weird Daddy.’ He said, curling in a bit.

Oh of course, Martin had never flown before. ‘Is it your ears? They’ll pop in a minute and you’ll feel better.’ George heard Simon sigh from beside him but ignored his son.

‘No Daddy, this feels weird.’ Martin rubbed at his chest, biting his lip. ‘Daddy, it _hurts_.’

George felt horror running through him. No, not Martin. Not his darling, flight obsessed Martin. ‘Martin, give me your hand.’ Eyes wide, Martin gave George his left hand. Carefully George fetched the tiny flower from his cuff and dropped it into Martin’s hand.

Martin breathed, the tension leaving his body. ‘Oh! I feel better now.’ He smiled up at George. ‘Thank you Daddy.’

But George couldn’t smile back, not when he knew exactly what it meant to be an Earth mage. ‘Don’t let go of my hand.’ He said softly. ‘Or you’ll feel bad again.’

‘Okay!’ Martin said brightly and looked back out the window, never looking back to see the sad look on his father’s face. 

********

Earth magic was the rarest of the four types of magic with only ten percent of the world’s population being an Earth mage. Within England the percentage was far lower, hovering somewhere between two to four percent. You were more likely to meet a dozen of the rare Unspecified mage in a day than a single Earth mage in a month if you were in England.

Earth mages also only had a one in five chance of passing their affinity to their children if their partner was from another element. George Crieff had been sure that his blasted Earth line would die with him and that all three of his children would be just like their mother, Water to the bone. Especially little Martin, the spitting image of his mother bar the blue green eyes that he shared with George.

Perhaps that should have been the first sign that Martin had lost the practically unlosable genetic lottery.

********

While the game was banned from all schools, every school child in England spent at least one lunch a week playing ‘Show-offs’. It wasn’t a hard game to play, all that was needed was a skipping rope to make a sealed circle and a child with a watch to count off the minute. Then whoever was in the circle would have the chance to show off their powers for the minute and at the end, the kid with the best trick won.

However Martin never got to play. The other kids had always looked at him sideways, especially with their parents words about ‘that Earth mage Crieff and his son’ echoing in their ears. The game was always played on concrete, where even the strongest Earth mage would have had problems summoning plants to use for tricks.

Besides, summoning things through concrete hurt them. Martin didn’t like to hurt plants, they were always so nice to him when he was sad.  

So Martin made sure he kept an eye out and reported the game to a teacher every time it started up. They were _breaking_ the rules after all, they _deserved_ to have their silly game ruined.

But one day, when he had hidden under a tree after reporting the game, some of the boys he had just told on found him. He looked up at them in fear, their eleven year old bodies huge to his eight year old self.

‘Oh good Crieff, what do we have here?’ One asked and the others laughed. Martin cowered, digging his fingers into the dirt. The boy who had spoken, Thomas from the year below Simon’s, noticed.

‘Oh look, he’s going to Earth us!’ They laughed again.

‘I don’t know why he bothers.’ Another boy, Kyle, said. ‘Everyone knows Earth magic is weak. It can’t stand up to any of the other elements that’s why only the stupid, whining _babies_ get Earth magic.’

Another boy spoke up. ‘And Martin’s not even a proper Earth mage. He wants to be a _pilot_.’ Everyone laughed, like Martin was wrong to want to fly.

‘I am going to be a pilot!’ Martin roared. ‘I am!’ Then hands were pulling him out from his hiding spot and Kyle was smirking at him.

‘You want to fly?’ He asked, wiggling his fingers in the universal sign of one about to use their magic. ‘Then _fly_.’ He threw his hands up and Martin felt the tingle of magic as he was lifted off his feet and shot up into the air. He could see the magic on Kyle’s hands as he floated metres off the ground and hear the surprised cries of other students around them as they spotted him flying.

But most of all, Martin could feel a tightness in his chest as the reassuring Earth was taken from him- just like Dad described and he barely remembered from their trip to Disneyland. _NO!_ He thought, panic flooding through him. _Put me down!_ He reached a hand down, desperate for any connection to make this feeling go away. He felt a flood of magic leave him but it barely registered in his blind panic.

It took a moment, but a vine suddenly wrapped around his wrist and squeezed reassuringly. Martin could breathe again, as he realised he wasn’t actually _that_ high up. The vine crept along his wrist and held him around his waist and he smiled as he realised Kyle’s magic was disappearing, leaving the vine to hold him. Slowly it lowered him to the ground and he turned to smirk at his attackers.

Only to freeze as he saw them covered in vines and flowers, eyes wide and panicked as leaves covered their mouths and Martin’s vines pulled them towards the ground. Even the tree Martin had hidden under was a part of the scene, its roots wrapping around the ankles of the boys and holding them in place while its trunk bent towards them as if to scold their actions.

‘No, stop.’ Martin whispered, terror in his voice. This wasn’t what he had wanted, he had just wanted to be free.

It was like he had broken a spell. Slowly the roots retreated, the tree straightening into its usual position. The flowers and vines wilted and vanished into the ground as Martin began to feel tired, the amount of magic he had accidently used draining him. But the moment the boys were free they began to backtrack, crawling or stumbling away with their eyes still wide.

Except Kyle, who moved forward with anger in his eyes. ‘How _dare_ you attack me?’ He raised a hand to punch Martin, who cringed away.

But before he could strike, Caitlin was there, her Water forming around her hands as she stood in front of Martin. ‘Go away!’ She screamed as her magic formed a bubble around herself and her brother. ‘Or I’ll make you.’

Kyle took three steps back as a pair of teachers came running up. ‘What happened?’ One demanded and Martin’s attackers began to babble about being attacked.

Caitlin lowered her bubble and turned to her brother. ‘Oh Martin.’ She sighed.

‘I’m sorry.’ He told the ground, trying to ignore how the grass around him was wilting.

********

George wasn’t surprised when he got another call from the school, asking for him and Wendy to come in. He’d been expecting it really, it had been a few months since the last call and Martin usually didn’t manage to stay out of trouble.

The moment they came to the principal’s office and saw Martin sitting just outside it with a cut on his cheek, Wendy gasped and dropped to her knees before their son. ‘Are you okay?’ She asked while reaching for a handkerchief to wipe the blood off his face.

‘’m fine Mum.’ Martin blushed bright red at the attention from his _Mum_ but kept darting quick thankful looks at her as she cleaned his cheek. ‘Mum, I’m _fine_.’ He said with all of the embarrassed bluster of a fourteen year old.

‘What happened?’ George turned to the principal who had a grave look on her face.

‘There was a fight.’ Principal Watts was firm but fair and part of the reason Martin had been able to stay at this school despite the sheer number of fights he had found himself in.

George sighed and closed his eyes while rubbing his forehead with his sleeve. ‘What was it about this time?’ He walked into the office and settled into the seat in front of the desk. With a last look at Martin, Wendy followed him while Watts closed the door behind them.

‘During Power Practice a fight broke out at the back of the room between Martin and another student. Both students were removed but neither has revealed what lead to the fight.’ Watts said with a sigh. ‘Your son must be commended for his restraint; he did not use his magic.’

‘He never does.’ George’s tone was sharp; as much of a rebuke as he could manage. They always came down harder on Martin if he used his magic; the long list of his suspensions testified to that. His heart ached at the unfairness but this was a Water and Air school; his son was in the wrong place.

‘Yes, that is true. Look, we’re not going to punish Martin as he neither used his magic nor resorted to physical violence like the other boy did. But I must implore you to look into alternative schools for Martin’s education.’

George sat up straighter and glared as much as he could. ‘You’re expelling my boy?’

Watts glared right back. ‘I am not, nor will I be if Martin manages to stop finding himself in my office. But Mr Crieff, this is not the first incident. My teachers try but we can’t be everywhere. And,’ she took a deep breath, ‘your son is powerful.’ She met their eyes. ‘At least a seven or eight.’

‘Nine.’ Wendy corrected, pride evident in her voice. George looked down, still unsure of how he felt about Martin’s recently tested ranking. He himself was barely ranked as a seven and Wendy ranked as a more average six, how had they produced a _nine_. Even Simon and Caitlin had only ranked as high sevens or low eights. Poor Martin had been devastated at the number. While Earth pilots did exist they rarely ranked more than a three and never more than a five; his nine was not helping his future plans. But his Wendy was always one to make the best of things and a nine was something to be proud of.

For most people.

‘A nine?’ Watts sounded impressed and slightly dazed. Then her eyes narrowed. ‘I would imagine he had been offered scholarships for that. Isn’t there a lovely Earth school in London?’

George shook his head. ‘That closed three years back. Nearest one’s in Paris. Martin won’t be attending.’

‘Because it’s in Paris?’

He bristled at the judgement in Watts’ tone. ‘Because Martin doesn’t want to attend.’ Watts’ face flooded with understanding. ‘Those schools would be even less accepting, he’s sure.’

‘He so wants to be a pilot.’ Wendy chipped in. ‘I know it’s unusual but he really does want it.’

‘I’ve heard.’ Watts sighed and rubbed at her brow. ‘Look, I’m going to speak frankly.’ She looked them both in the eyes, one after the other. ‘Martin does not fit in here. It’s no fault of his but my teachers can only do so much; can only be in so many places. Sooner or later, someone is going to attack your son magically and he’ll retaliate. And it _will_ get out of hand, we _know_ it will. Martin’s history proves that.’ She shrugged. ‘Someone will get hurt and with his level of magic it’s not likely to be Martin.’

‘He wouldn’t!’ Wendy sounded outraged. ‘He would never!’

‘In the heat of the moment? Can you guarantee that?’

‘Yes.’ George said simply as he rose. ‘Yes I can.’ Without another a word he stormed from the office, Wendy and a bemused Martin following in his wake.

Later that day he would come to Martin’s room where his son was pretending to do homework and show him exactly how to make flowers from nothing and grow vines without calling them through concrete. His son obviously needed to know earlier, rather than later, how to defend himself.

George’s heart broke more even as he showed his son the necessary magic and impressed upon him the few situations it should be used in. _It shouldn’t be like this_.

********

‘Dad?’ Martin called, his newly broken voice echoing through the garage. At eighteen he was finally beginning to feel more like a human being than a rolling mass of hormones and magic. He had even stopped accidentally creating flowers where he stood whenever he was happy. Well, for the most part. Magic wasn’t completely controllable after all.

‘In the back room!’ Dad called and Martin followed it to the workroom Dad had built sometime before Simon had been born. He was seated at the desk Martin had helped him build when he was eight, fiddling with some wires and batteries.

‘What are you doing?’ Martin tried to enunciate like the book had said he should but it mostly came out in his usual accent.

Dad still smiled. ‘Getting there.’ He offered and Martin smiled. ‘I’m not working on anything, just fiddling.’

‘Oh right.’ Without Martin having to say anything, Dad pushed over a handful of wires and batteries for Martin to fiddle with too. While Martin was determined to be a pilot, Dad had been equally determined that he was going to know the basics of being an electrician. Martin could now handle himself around most household electrical issues.

They sat in silence for a while, their fiddling wordlessly turning into work on projects. Martin fetched Simon’s broken remote control car and George started to poke at it while Martin fiddled with the back room’s light which had started to flicker slightly. He pulled a chair up underneath it, took the light cover off and the bulb out, and began to poke at the light fuses, trying to feel which one didn’t have a current running through it.

‘No replies yet?’ Dad finally asked as he replaced the car’s batteries and its wheels began to spin.

‘Nothing.’ Martin sighed and stepped down, leaving the problem of the broken light for Dad.

‘They’ll come.’ Unspoken was the fact that the application had had no declaration of Element on them; if there was no reply it wasn’t because of what Martin was.

‘And if they don’t? How can I fly if I can’t go to flight school?’

‘You’ll find a way. There’s always another way. Now, go replace that bulb and we’ll go see if your mother has dinner.’ Martin scrambled back up onto the chair. ‘Oh and Martin?’

‘Hmm?’ He looked at Dad who was standing by the light switch.

‘Turn the power off next time. I know it doesn’t matter, we’re grounded, but it makes people nervous.’ He flicked the switch and the awareness of a current running through Martin vanished.

‘Will do Father.’ Martin said in his poshest accent and Dad laughed.

‘Brat.’ He said affectionately and flicked the light back on just as Martin replaced the bulb.

‘Ah!’ Martin flinched away from the light and fell backwards. But as he fell he felt Dad’s magic and then vines rising around him and curling around his head; protecting it from the hard concrete floor. Martin still landed hard on his butt as the vines retreated and he glared up at Dad who was laughing.

‘That _hurt!_ ’

‘Then remember to turn the light off next time.’ Dad shrugged and with a final smile he left, leaving Martin to try and attach the light cover while still half blind.

********

‘George?’ Wendy called as she entered the house, hands full of grocery bags. ‘Are you home?’ His van wasn’t in the driveway but that had long ceased to mean anything. Martin borrowed the van too often for it to signify who was home.

‘Kitchen.’ Came George’s weary voice. Reluctantly, Wendy entered the room.

Her husband was leaning against a cupboard, staring at the pile of mail on the opposite counter. Only one letter had been opened and from here Wendy could see her son’s name. The letter looked familiar-

‘Oh, another failure?’ She asked softly as it dawned on her where she had seen it before. George rubbed at his brow with a sigh.

‘Another failure.’ He shrugged. ‘I tried to open it first, thought I could spare him the news but he beat me to it. That’s four times now.’

Something was off about his voice. ‘What happened?’

George looked down. ‘We fought.’ He rubbed at his eyes. ‘I said some things. God, the look on his face when I asked him if this was all worth it! I told him he was wasting his time. I didn’t mean to say that.’ He met her eyes and she could see the tears in them. ‘But I was so angry... He could be an amazing electrician, or go to school and do something with numbers. He’s good with numbers. There’s so much he could do that wouldn’t lead to all these fails. But no...’ George looked away. ‘I just want him to be happy, why does it have to be so hard for him?’

‘You mustn’t blame yourself.’ Wendy moved to hold her husband. ‘It’s not your fault.’

‘It’s my magic he shares. Of course it’s my fault.’ George sighed again. ‘I didn’t even get to tell him.’

Wendy drew back. ‘Oh you didn’t tell him?’  

‘I couldn’t! We were screaming at each other about him learning to fly; how could I tell him I have cancer-’

‘What?’ Both Wendy and George turned to see Martin hovering in the doorway, eyes wide as he stared at them. ‘Dad?’

Wendy’s heart broke at the look on Martin’s face. ‘Martin-’

George interrupted her. ‘I didn’t hear the van.’ He said softly.

‘Oh, yes. Umm, it broke down do-down the street. I just wanted to know where the spar- Dad you have cancer?’

George nodded. ‘Yes. Doctor told me last week. I’m starting treatment in a few days.’ He looked down. ‘I’ll be okay.’

Martin stared at them for a long moment then turned and fled, the plants George loved wilting as he passed them.

‘That could have gone better.’ George moved to save his plants, his magic already filling the room.

‘No no, you go after him.’ Wendy pushed at her husband, forcing him towards the front door. ‘Please don’t leave it there, go _talk_ to him.’ He looked at her, bemused. ‘Go!’ She snapped and a drop of water fell from nowhere.

‘Okay, yes, I’m going.’ George left and she heard him calling for Martin as soon as he got outside. Wendy sighed.

_Oh my boys, what am I ever going to do with you?_

********

‘Martin?’

‘Simon!’ Martin cried as he answered the home phone, not caring why his brother was calling and too pleased to be annoyed. ‘I got it! I passed! I’m a pilot!’

‘What?’

‘I’m a pilot!’ Martin felt like _dancing_ , he was so happy. ‘I haven’t told Mum and Dad yet so please don’t tell them. I want to be the one-’

‘Martin.’ And it was then that the tone his brother was using registered with Martin. It held none of his usual bluster and almost sounded...sad.

‘Simon?’

‘It’s Dad Martin, you need to get to the hospital now.’ Martin dropped the phone in shock as his eyes landed on Dad’s plant that sat on the kitchen windowsill. It had begun to wilt, only a tiny bit of green left on its leaves.

‘No, no no.’ Martin raced forward and pushed his magic into the plant, trying to save it. ‘Please don’t die. Not yet.’

‘Martin?’ The phone asked and Martin turned around and picked it up. ‘Martin, you there?’

‘Is he alive?’

‘Yes Martin, he’s still giving it a good fight but just get here.’ Simon hung up and Martin did the same, grabbing the keys for Dad’s van before he could even think about it.

He didn’t notice the plant he had saved beginning to wilt once more.

********

The funeral was held on a Saturday.

Caitlin wished it had been raining, if only so it made the growing wet patches beside Mum and herself less obvious. Simon was managing to keep his surroundings and self-dry but she knew he’d flooded the bathroom, kitchen and then the bathroom again the day Dad had died. The perils of Water magic.

Every single plant in their parents’ house had died too. Caitlin wasn’t sure if that was because of Martin or if Dad had been keeping them alive and without him they were nothing. But judging by the state of the slowly wilting flowers on Dad’s coffin, she was sure Martin had had something to do with it.

Simon delivered the eulogy. He talked about their Dad and tried to sum up everything he was in one short speech. Caitlin wasn’t sure he’d managed.

About halfway through, Martin got up and left. Mum watched him go, tears in her eyes but she didn’t move to stop him. Caitlin glared at her brother’s back and the moment the service was over, she excused herself to go after him.

She wasn’t surprised to find him sitting under a tree in a patch of dead grass. He didn’t look up as she approached but did glare when she took a seat beside him.

‘You could have stayed.’

‘I really couldn’t have.’ The sarcasm in Martin’s voice made her bristle but Caitlin took a deep breath before speaking.

‘It was just one service-’

‘I couldn’t take it!’ Martin snapped. ‘I couldn’t take Simon, or those _people_.’

‘They’re our friends and neighbours-’

‘They hated him.’ Martin sighed. ‘You know they did. They hated him and they hate me because we’re Earth and they spent every moment they weren’t talking to him calling him names behind his back.’

‘It wasn’t like that-’

‘How would you know?’ Martin rose and stalked off, leaving Caitlin to sit under the tree alone.

********

They went back to Simon’s place after the wake. Wendy just couldn’t face that big house all by herself. She knew if she asked, Martin would delay moving out until she was ready but she couldn’t ask, that was too much to ask.

Besides, no one had seen Martin since he’d left Caitlin sitting alone. Simon was getting anxious, she could tell, pacing around the living room while Wendy made drinks for everyone.

‘Where could he _be_? Should we call someone?’

‘He’ll be home when he’s ready.’ Wendy said as she passed him a cup of coffee. ‘You sound like your father-oh.’

‘Sit down Mum, it’s okay.’ Caitlin gently pulled her into a chair. ‘It’s okay.’

‘It’s not, but it’s nice of you to say so.’ Wendy slipped at the tea she’d made. ‘Martin will be home soon. I know it. Oh! Simon, there’s something for you in my bag.’

She watched as Simon fished in her handbag and pulled out a small envelope. ‘This?’

‘Yes, could you give it here please?’ Wendy opened it and held the item inside for one last moment before offering it to her son. ‘This should be yours.’

‘Dad’s ring.’ Simon took it and looked at her in surprise. ‘I thought he had it...on.’

Wendy shook her head. ‘He wouldn’t have wanted it to stay with him forever. It’s yours now.’

Simon eyed the ring in his palm then shook his head and passed it back to her. ‘It’s not mine Mum, you know it’s not.’

‘Simon, you’re the eldest-’

‘It’s not my ring Mum. It never was.’ He shrugged. ‘We all know who Dad’s favourite was.’

‘He didn’t have a favourite!’ Wendy was outraged at the thought her children would think that.

‘Sure he didn’t.’ Caitlin said with a lot more bitterness than Simon had spoken with. ‘Dad just liked Martin more than us and then Martin didn’t even respect him enough to stay for the full funeral.’

‘Oh Caitlin-’ Wendy rose but Caitlin held up a hand and shook her head.

‘Don’t Mum. Just. Don’t.’ With a sigh, Wendy settled back into her seat.

They sat in silence for a long time, awkwardly sipping at drinks until Simon’s phone rang. He answered it quickly.

‘Martin? Oh, hello Mrs King.’ Wendy smiled faintly at the mention of the old pilot whose house near the airfield had been a hideout of Martin’s for years. ‘You have Martin? He was at the airport, yes of course. How is he?’ Simon paused for a long moment then nodded. ‘Leave him there, just so long as he’s okay.’

He hung up and looked at Wendy. ‘Martin’s at Mrs King’s. Apparently he walked the ten miles there. I’ll go fetch him in the morning. You can sleep in my bed, I’ll take the sofa.’

Wendy didn’t have the strength to argue; somehow hearing Martin was safe had taken her last reserves from her. She followed Simon mindlessly to his bed, ignoring the women’s clothes hastily hidden under the bed and collapsed into his bed. Simon left her after begging her to come get him if she needed anything as ‘nothing was too good for you Mummo.’

‘Oh George.’ Wendy said to the white ceiling once she was sure Simon was gone. ‘Why did you leave me? I never wanted to do this without you.’

The empty room offered no reply. ‘He worshiped you. Please look out for him, he’s going to need it.’

Martin needs you went unspoken because it had never needed to be said.

She hoped it had never needed to be said.

********

Martin loved flying.

Martin hated flying for _this_ airline. Firstly as the last one on, he only ever got the boring jobs no one else wanted so he spent hours alone doing short flights all over the UK with tiny packages. There was barely enough time to fly; he spent most of the flight doing the post-take off checks. And then it was time to start pre-landing checks.

He wanted to _fly_ , not take-off and land a lot. And the pay was rotten.

And then, just as he was starting to get a bit of seniority behind him -two whole months! - one of the managers had seen him drop his focus flower just before a flight and asked after it. She wasn’t reassured by his stammering that it was for focus and nothing to worry about.

Then she went white when he mentioned _why_ he needed a flower for focus.

So he was dragged before management to be chewed out for not including the fact he was an _Earth_ mage on his paperwork.

‘But where?’ He asked confused at the idea he had needed to declare his affinity. ‘There wasn’t a space for it, it’s illegal to ask.’

‘There was a space for disabilities, wasn’t there?’ The manager had asked and Martin’s blood had run cold.

‘I don’t have a disability.’ He whispered, causing the man to roll his eyes.

‘You’re an Earth pilot, of course you have a disability.’ Martin felt like glaring, like screaming but that would have meant lifting his head and meeting this man’s eyes.

‘I-I-I don’t though. It-it’s airworthy. I can fly.’ He told the floor.

‘It is? Really?’

‘Well I’ve not suddenly become an Earth mage since I passed my CPL.’ Martin snapped and took a deep breath as he realised what he had said.

He risked a glance up at the manager’s unimpressed face. ‘What rank?’ He asked and it was a _rude_ question, nearly as rude as asking after his Element.

But he was Martin’s superior. ‘Umm, well I’m kinda...umm I’m a...sorta a nine?’

‘ _NINE_.’ He looked Martin over critically. ‘I thought Earth mages that high couldn’t go above the first storey of a building. Like how rank nine Fires can’t have a bath or rank nine Waters can’t get too hot.’ The fact that he didn’t mention the limit associated with rank nine Airs made Martin feel even worse. He suddenly just wanted to leave this room, this place, and never return.

‘Ah, umm. No?’ Martin looked up. ‘I don’t have a disability and I didn’t break any laws or regulations. You don’t have any right to hold me.’

‘I could fire you.’

‘I’ll, I’ll, I’ll fight it!’ Martin bit his lip. He didn’t want to be _fired_. This was an awful job but at least it was flying.

‘You could.’ The manager shrugged. ‘You’ve two months. Find yourself another job or we’ll find something to fire you for. Something you _can’t_ fight.’

He looked Martin over with a sheer. ‘It wouldn’t be too hard to find something, you’re a bloody awful pilot.’

********

‘Hey Dad.’

Martin shifted as he stood in front of Dad’s grave, trying not to feel awkward about talking to a stone.

‘Sorry I’ve not visited but...I’ve been busy? Well I guess you knew that, I hope you know that. Do you know? Do you see?’ Martin felt his knees weakening so he half fell, half flopped to the ground. He doubled checked he wasn’t sitting on anyone’s grave and once sure, began to twist the newly grown grass of Dad’s grave while looking anywhere but the stone that held his name.

‘I had a job. I was flying. And they found out I was Earth- I didn’t even think it would be a problem! Why is it a problem? I _can_ fly!’ Martin tugged at the grave’s grass and wasn’t surprised when instead of coming out, it grew instead. ‘Dad, why don’t they want me to fly?’

The stone remained silent. ‘Thanks for the advice.’ Martin sighed. ‘I had interviews all last week. I’m getting better! Now I stuff them up after five minutes of speaking not as soon as I open my mouth. I’ve another one tomorrow, with a tiny company called MJN Air. If that doesn’t work...I’ll be unemployed. I guess you’ll have your wish. I’ll have to go be an electrician.’ Martin placed his hand out a bit more, so it was resting on the actual grave. He wasn’t surprised to watch the wave of grass growth flowing from his hands towards the gravestone.

But the flowers that also grew were a surprise. Red and pink carnations grew around the edge of the grave, intertwined with purple hyacinths while a single yellow calendula and a single purple anemone sat in the middle of the grave Martin groaned as he realised the sheer amount of symbolism his magic poured into unconsciously created flowers while being thankful Caitlin’s obsession with flowers when she was sixteen meant he actually _knew_ their symbolism.

For a moment he thought about pulling them out but realised there was no point; they would disappear soon enough.

‘So. I guess I’ll see you?’ Martin wasn’t sure how to end his visit. How do you tell a grave you’re going to go live your life? He finally looked up at the stone where Dad’s name was written, cold and lifeless like his body.

Suddenly Martin couldn’t stand to see it any more. He reached out and focused. While a wave of tiredness swept through him from all the magic he had used, he watched as ivy crawled up the stone and covered the name. For the few hours the ivy would last, Dad’s name would be covered.

Perhaps it would be less real if the name was covered? Even as Martin stood and walked away he could feel the hollowness of his thoughts.

But they might keep his back straight for a few hours. That would be enough for now.

********

Carolyn looked at the desperate man before her, who had just agreed to fly for nothing if he got to be the captain. A part of her couldn’t believe her luck while the rest was wary but halfway to delighted. MJN might actually make a profit soon, if she only had to pay one pilot.

Then she noticed how he was fiddling with his sleeve as he signed the paperwork, glancing at her every so often with a nervous look on his face. ‘Out with it.’ She finally snapped, recognising that look as one Arthur got when he wasn’t sure if he should tell her something.

‘What? Oh. No, what?’

God he was a nervous person. ‘With whatever is eating you. _Tell_ me if it’s important. If it’s not, shut up and stop fiddling.’

Mr Crieff bit his lip. ‘I don’t think it’s important but my last job does in fact they fired me for it though they didn’t actually fire me because I left before they could well I’m leaving before they can and it’s really not an issue except they made it an issue-’

‘For God’s sake, tell me then!’ Carolyn snapped though she was slightly impressed. Had he taken a breath in that entire sentence?

‘It’s my Element.’ He looked down at his paperwork. Carolyn sat up straighter. He’d been fired for his _Element?_ Well that would explain the poor reference. Elementalists.

‘Go on.’ She prompted when he didn’t continue. He didn’t though, so she rolled her eyes. ‘Look, I don’t care _what_ you are so long as you can fly my plane. Fire, Water, Air is all the same to me.’

‘Earth.’ He offered in a soft voice. ‘I’m Earth.’

 _Oh_. Well that was unusual. Carolyn looked at the way he was sitting, as if waiting for her to withdraw the deal she had just struck with him even though it was one of the best of her life. What had happened to this bo- man? Man. She had to think of him as a man and not as a boy barely a few years older than Arthur.

‘Well, it’s all the same to me. Now sign, and I’ll expect you eight o’clock sharp Monday morning. We’re flying to Paris, then to Tokyo and back home. Next week is a trip to Abu Dhabi and next month we have a trip to Boston. There will be other flights between now and then but that is all we have booked currently.’ Mr Cr-Martin, nodded and scrambled to finish signing.

Six months. Maybe a year. That’s all she could reasonably expect a pilot to stick around if they weren’t being paid. She might get lucky and have Martin for two years if he had some kind of loyalty but definitely no longer. Carolyn nodded to herself. That should be long enough to get MJN out of the red and into the black enough to afford to pay a second pilot.

She wouldn’t expect more than that.

********

‘Arthur? What _are_ you doing?’

For a moment Arthur nearly lost his focus but then he managed to not forget to keep a hold of his magic. He turned and smiled at Skipper who had just poked his head into the galley. ‘I’m juggling.’

‘With an apple made of water.’

‘Yeah! I couldn’t find an actual apple and well, we have bananas but that’s not the same at all.’

‘Bananas are notoriously hard to juggle.’ Skipper agreed with a smile.

‘But then I realised I could make one and juggle that instead.’ Arthur smiled at his friend and Skipper’s smile grew a bit more.

‘Quite clever of you Arthur.’

‘Really? Wow, thanks Skipper!’ Arthur looked at his apple. ‘Do you want a go?’

Skipper shook his head. ‘I can’t Arthur, I’m not Water. That will fall apart the moment I touch it.’

‘Oh. Are you sure?’

‘Very sure. My sister is Water, it was one of her favourite tricks to play on me as a child.’ He finally came into the galley and started to make himself a coffee.

‘That wasn’t very nice of her. I can make that-’

‘No, you keep juggling.’ Skipper waved his hand and Arthur decided not to argue even though he really wanted to help. ‘It wasn’t very nice. She used to throw water balls at me and laugh when I didn’t catch them.’

‘That’s awful Skipper!’ Arthur tried to imagine having a brother and then being cruel enough to throw things at him. He couldn’t, why would anyone _want_ to.

But Skipper shrugged. ‘It was fine, at least she wasn’t Fire. Water just makes you wet. Besides she was of the opinion that practicing her magic would improve her rank- and throwing water balls at me was the least harmful way she practiced. I can’t tell you how many times she flooded the bathroom.’

Arthur frowned at the mention of ranks. He…well he didn’t like maths and the ranks seemed like maths to him. And judging people according to maths sounded really stupid to him and he was really familiar with stupid. But Skipper was nice, he wouldn’t do something that mean.

‘I flooded the bathroom.’

‘When you were little?’ Skipper grabbed a second cup and held it up questioningly. Arthur stared at it until he rolled his eyes and began to make tea in it. Arthur couldn’t figure out why he would want a cup of coffee _and_ tea but Skipper knew best.

‘No, last week.’

Skipper huffed a laugh. ‘I bet Carolyn wasn’t pleased.’

‘Mum was really mad.’ Arthur agreed, nearly dropping his apple but managing to catch it at the last moment. ‘She yelled at me a bit but then she helped me clean it up and it was brilliant.’

There was another laugh from Skipper as he leaned against the counter, holding his coffee. ‘I can imagine. Dad always used to yell at Caitlin when she did it, made her clean it until it was _spotless_.’

‘So your Dad was Water then?’ Arthur wasn’t sure if it was a rude question but he really wanted to know.

Skipper’s smile faded a bit. ‘No, Mum is.’ It dawned on Arthur then that this was the most Skipper had said about his family in the eight months he had been at MJN. Which was weird because even Douglas mentioned his ex-wives more than Skipper mentioned his Mum. And Mums were brilliant! They should always be talked about.

But Arthur could understand why he might not want to talk about his Dad. But maybe Skipper had a nice Dad? ‘Oh, so you’re like your Dad then?’

‘Exactly like him.’ Skipper sounded bitter and Arthur dropped his apple in surprise at the tone. Oh, not a nice Dad then. He wriggled his toes at the feeling of water soaking into them as the apple lost its form and fell onto his shoes.

‘Oops.’

‘Oh dear Arthur. You might want to take those off.’ Skipper offered, pushing the cup of tea towards him. ‘Give them a chance to dry off before the flight.’

‘I can dry them, look Skipper!’ Arthur focused and held his hand out. Slowly the water rose into his hand, leaving his shoes and socks dry. ‘See?’

‘Very good Arthur.’ There was a smile on Skipper’s face and Arthur’s smile brightened in return. ‘Say, Arthur would you like an actual apple to juggle?’

'That would be BRILLIANT! ‘That would be BRILLIANT!’ Arthur looked around. ‘Do you have one in your bag?’

‘No Arthur. Here.’ Skipper reached out a hand and focused, just like Mum did when she was going to make flames. Something red started to grow in his palm until an apple was sitting there.

‘WOW Skipper! That’s BRILLIANT. How did you do it?’ Arthur gently took the apple from Skipper and rolled it in his hands. It felt just like a real apple!

‘Like you did it Arthur but with Earth magic. Don’t eat it!’ He said suddenly as Arthur was about to bite into it to see if it tasted like a real apple. Arthur looked at him, confused. ‘It won’t taste like anything. It’s magic.’

Oh, just like Arthur’s water couldn’t be drunk. ‘Okay! Thanks Skip!’

‘You’re welcome.’ Skipper’s voice sounded confused as Arthur left the galley.

Only to run into Douglas, who had been standing there. ‘Oh sorry Douglas! I didn’t know you were there. Look what Martin gave me!’ He held up the apple.

‘I heard. You should show your mother that and tell her where you got it.’ Douglas looked down at it in distaste, as if it was something awful like like a a...a something awful.

‘She knows.’ Skipper said from behind him and his voice sounded angry but also really really scared. ‘I told her when I applied. Is…is is it a problem?’

Douglas suddenly smiled. It was even one of his nice smiles not the horrible ones he wore when people were being not brilliant. ‘No problem. I just wondered if there was a possibility of a problem which there clearly isn’t.’

‘What problem?’ Arthur was lost, looking between the smiling face of Douglas and Skipper’s much less worried face.

Douglas shook his head. ‘No problem. Just the fact that Martin has to be one of the most _unique_ pilots in existence.’

‘Brilliant!’

********

Martin was avoiding talking to him.

Normally this wouldn’t bother Douglas much, unless he felt like playing a word game. But earlier he had overheard Martin and Arthur talking in the galley and had listened in in time to hear Martin imply he had _Earth_ magic. And Earth magic capable of conjuring an apple which made him at least a rank seven and thus vulnerable to the effects of being out of his element. Douglas was curious.

And he was admiring, even if he would only admit it to himself. Douglas was a rank nine Air and there was nothing on this planet that would get him to go more than a few feet underground. But here Martin was, flying an aeroplane with no sign he was even an inch out of his element.

‘Is Sir going to ignore me the entire trip?’

‘Yes.’ Martin answered curtly and Douglas smiled.

‘Oh you are then? Well, I shall speak to myself. I’m sure it will be far better company than usual.’ Martin gritted his teeth but said nothing. Perfect, he _was_ listening.

‘What shall I talk about? I know, I’ll talk about some of my old Air England colleagues.’

‘I don’t care about your old Air England colleagues.’ Martin snapped, shooting him a quick gare.

‘And you’re not listening. No, I think I’ll talk about old Tom Higgins. He was a senior pilot, much admired, but with a few oddities. All the best pilots have oddities. Tom’s main one was his habit of flying with a flower in his cap. A literal flower. After each flight he would give it away to a lucky stewardess or occasionally a co-pilot.’

‘So he was a flirt. Good for him.’

Douglas smiled. He _had_ Martin. ‘Oh no. He was happily married, which I will admit was probably one of his oddities. But the flowers were just little gifts and it didn’t really matter anyway. They disappeared after a few hours. You know how conjured flowers are.’

He checked the instruments as he felt Martin sit up straighter. ‘He was Earth?’

‘He was one of my favourite Captains to fly with as a First Officer and then a good friend when I became a Captain. And yes, he was Earth though he kept it to himself.’ Douglas turned a serious look on Martin. ‘So long as you can fly Gertie, I don’t _care_ what Element you are.’

‘But-’

‘No buts. I. Do. No. Care. So if you’re going to ignore me, please pick a better reason.’

Martin looked quickly at him, then nodded. ‘Sure.’

‘Right.’

‘Good.’

Douglas rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, care for a game?’ He was curious about some of the comments regarding Martin’s family he had overheard but that could wait for another time.

‘Which one?’

********

‘I am a bit curious Martin….Martin?’

Martin finally tore his eyes away from the disappearing Northern Lights to look at Douglas. They were alone in the flight deck for a short while; Carolyn was talking with her brother-in-law and Arthur was either with them or making coffee.

‘Yes?’ He looked back quickly and Douglas rolled his eyes while hiding a smile. He was delighted his gift to Carolyn had had the advantage of being a gift to Martin too. Always good to please more than one person at a time. Perhaps Helsinki wasn’t as much of a waste as he had thought.

‘I couldn’t help but notice, in your little incident with Kieran-’ Martin scoffed and looked away, though Douglas noted how he drew his burnt arm in closer to his chest, ‘-that you didn’t resort to your magic to defend yourself but jumped to it when it was an insult to me.’

Martin’s eyes went comically wide. ‘No! No! No! Not like that. I don’t think of you like that. Not that I’m sure you’re err, nice looking but no not my boat and no-’’

Douglas grinned at the flustered look on Martin’s face. ‘I understand Martin, you can stop before you hurt yourself. No, my question was about when you resorted to your magic. Why?’

‘Oh.’ He seemed to consider it for a moment. ‘Well I used my magic when I did because...I don’t like my….my….my... my f-friends being called names like that. Especially not from brats like _that_. Um.’

That was slightly touching. In a stammering kind of way. Douglas quickly rescued Martin from himself. ‘And when you were dodging fireballs? I’m sure vines pulling him to the floor would have been helpful then.

Martin shrugged. ‘I, ah got into fights a lot as a kid.’

‘You?’ Douglas snorted but then Martin nodded and he felt surprise wash through him. ‘You don’t seem the type to get into fights.’ Bullied, yes. Douglas could easily see Martin as a victim of bullying. But fights implied something a touch more mutual.

‘It was my school...it, umm, wasn’t Earth friendly. Dad trained me out of resorting to magic first. I always got into more trouble when I used magic, no matter who started it.’ He bit his lip. ‘It was easier to not fight. Dad was always big on me _not_ fighting.’

Douglas wondered about the kind of man who would teach his powerful son to not fight back when he was clearly being badly bullied. Surely one good thrashing would have sent the bullies running? 

But Martin was still talking. ‘I guess the habit stuck?’

‘Yes, it would seem so.’ Before Douglas could fish around for another topic, Arthur bounced back into the flight deck with their drinks and Martin went back to staring at the last bits of the Lights. 

********

Arthur and Carolyn had retreated back to the cabin to sleep after Arthur’s attempt at Charades, leaving Martin and Douglas to contemplate the remaining five hours to Limerick without the tiny amounts of amusement they provided.

‘So your Dad?’

Martin bristled at Douglas’ tone. His relationship with his Dad was not up for comment, no matter what he had said about it. ‘Yes, my Dad. What about him?’

‘Nothing about him. Just wondering...Earth too?’

Well that wasn’t where Martin thought Douglas had been taking this. ‘Ah yes. Yours?’

‘Oh Air, yes. We were a bit of an Air family.’

Martin bit his lip as he snorted. ‘A _bit_ of an Air family? How can you be a _bit_ of an Air family?’

‘How would you describe your family?’

Oh right. Martin got the point. ‘Oh. Yeah, as a bit of a Water family. Right.’ He bit at his lip again as he considered asking another question, then gave up and asked it. ‘Do you remember that pilot you mentioned to me? The Air England one?’

‘Good old Tom? Yes I rather do.’

‘I know this is really a rude question but…what rank was he?’ Douglas shifted beside him. ‘Oh sorry! You don’t have to answer, it’s okay. I’m just really interested in Earth pilots, because well obviously I’m interested in Earth pilots and I know all the ones that were famous and flew...and I’ve never heard of one like me. I mean, one strong enough to conjure. Not that conjuring is the only thing-’

Douglas laughed beside him, cutting off his rambling. ‘Martin. It’s fine. He was a rank seven, like you.’

 _Wait, what?_ Martin thought. ‘Like me?’

‘You are a seven?’

Martin smiled as he realised he had one up on Douglas. For once, his stupid rank would be useful. ‘Ah no? Wherever did you get that idea?’

‘Assumption. You’re not a _nine,_ are you?’

‘Yes?’

There was an impressed sounding grunt from beside him and Martin risked a glance at Douglas. But his face was as impassive as always. ‘You said you know all the famous Earth pilots.’

It wasn’t a question but Martin would take it as such. ‘Yes?’

‘Most in the next half hour?’

‘You’re on.’

********

‘Hey Dad.’

Martin took a seat in front of his father’s grave, tipping the box of wires he had found under the driver’s seat in his van onto it. ‘Brought these to fiddle with, I thought you...well you might like it. Remember we used to do this when I was a kid? Playing with live wires, used to terrify Mum. And that one time Simon walked in and went to touch the wire I had?’ Martin smiled at the memory. ‘You wrapped his hands in vines and then dragged the wires away. Spent _hours_ explaining to him why he couldn’t touch them.’

He sighed. ‘I miss that.’ _I miss you_ , he thought but didn’t say.

After ten minutes, he finally worked up to what he wanted to say, what he had come here to say. ‘I don’t know if you know but...I landed a plane last week. Well, of course I did, but this was different. I landed it on one engine Dad! And in a crosswind.’ There was pride in his voice and maybe, for once, it was something Dad might feel too. Surely this would be...would have been enough to make Dad proud. 

‘Are you proud of me?’ Martin asked the grave but it did not answer.

********

‘Theresa!’

Martin looked surprised to see her face, which was amusing considering he had answered the Skype call with her name clearly displayed. ‘Hello.’

‘Hi! Hello. Hi!’ He looked so bemused that Theresa couldn’t help but smile.

‘Hello. How are you?’

‘Bril-ah. Breat. Great. I’m great.’

Theresa had to laugh. ‘Martin, I do believe you are on track to win another medal.’

He rolled his eyes but there was a small smile on his face. ‘Let me guess, for most stammering in a single call?’

‘No. For being the cutest pilot I’ve ever seen.’ He blushed at her words, the shade of pink only making him look even cuter. Theresa was eager to see exactly where that blush stopped but it was a little early for that. Perhaps after their second date next week?

‘Oh. Umm. I don’t think I mind that medal.’

‘I will have it made by next week.’ She was teasing but the wide eye look he gave her made her reconsider. Perhaps it would make a lovely addition to his uniform?

‘Next we-oh yes. The. Party. Umm.’

Martin looked so terrified at the thought that she sighed. ‘Don’t worry about it Martin. How was the flight to Stansted?’

‘Same old. The client was late, Carolyn was gleefully charging for every delayed hour and Douglas beat me at the word game.’ But he was smiling and she _knew_ there was more to the story.

‘And? Something happened, I can see it in your smile.’

Martin looked down then back up, a sure sign he had been lying by omission. It sometimes scared her, how fast she had learnt so much about this man but then he looked at her like she was amazing and Theresa stopped worrying. 

‘Well, you know how Mum has angina?’ She nodded and he continued. ‘Well, Simon finally showed up and he steamrolled over me as usual. But then Douglas and Carolyn stopped in while he was there and well, they showed him up! For once, I wasn’t inferior.’ 

‘You are not inferior.’ Theresa snapped and he looked down.

‘Sure.’ His tone was unconvincing and she made a note to continue to convince him of this fact. ‘But something Mum said...it’s stuck with me.’

‘Oh?’ She prompted, unwilling to push him if he didn’t want to talk.

But it seemed he did. ‘Yeah, she said Dad would be proud of me, for running my umm, Man with a Van business.’ He said the last part quickly, as if unwilling to relive the confession he had made to her during one of their first Skype calls. ‘And I’m...I just can’t stop thinking about it? He was never proud of me when I was growing up, except when I was in his garage with him. Why would he be proud now?’

She knew this feeling. ‘I am sure your mother knows best.’

‘Does yours?’

Theresa glared at him for the smooth comeback. ‘Your mother did not spend most of your life pregnant with the child that was supposed to be the perfect heir you were not.’ Then she looked away. ‘Sorry, I did not mean to snap.’

‘No, it’s...it’s fine. I understand. Dad always wanted me to be like him...Earth and Electrician.’ He shrugged. ‘I always did wonder why he never sent me away to the Earth school in Paris...’

‘Perhaps he knew you did not want to go?’

Martin shrugged. ‘Maybe?’ There was a bang from his side of the call and he looked over his shoulder. ‘Hey!’ He called to someone off screen. ‘Don’t bring a _cow_ in here, what are you doing?’ He turned back to the screen. ‘I think I have to go, the students are doing something stupid.’

‘I agree but only if you promise one thing?’

‘Anything.’ Something in the tone of his voice scared her even as it delighted her.

‘Tell me about it?’

He smiled. ‘Of course! I’ll ring right back.’ Then without disconnecting the call he rose and walked off, yelling at the students as he went.

‘For God’s sake, if you take that thing upstairs it’ll get stuck!’ She heard as she disconnected, causing a wide smile to break across her face

********

‘That was impressive.’ Theresa said later, as they sipped at drinks back inside the Taj Mahal.

They had gone for a walk in the gardens and on the way back to the birthday party had stumbled upon a photographer and security guard arguing over a camera. Without speaking, Martin had restrained the photographer with his magic while Theresa had taken the camera with hers. Martin had been surprised to realise the man had been photographing _them_ and taken quite a lot of nice photos.

Theresa had taken the memory card and promised to send him the photos. Martin only really wanted one; the one of her looking at him just after she’d accidentally hit him on the head with her hands. The look she had had in her eyes...Martin wanted a photo just to prove to himself it was a real look.

‘It was?’

‘It was.’

Martin smiled and took a large gulp of his wine. ‘Thank you.’

‘Did you really do that to your brother?’ It took him a moment to realise what she was referencing.

‘What? Grow grass over his feet and leave him there?’ She nodded. ‘Once.’ Martin smirked at the memory. ‘Dad was so _pissed_ but it was worth it. He didn’t pick me up for a week.’

‘Your Dad was upset?’ Carefully, she took his wine glass off him and put it down. She started to tug him out to the dance floor but he dug his heels in. Theresa gave up after a moment. 

‘Very. He...didn’t like me using my magic.’ Martin sighed. ‘Well, he didn’t like me fighting with it. Even when Simon deserved it.’

‘What did Simon do?’

‘Flooded my bedroom. He was replacing my models for _months_.’ Martin was caught up in the joy of the memory and didn’t notice Theresa had led him onto the edge of the dance floor until they were there. He froze for a moment but she just spun in circles. _Not dancing_. He reasoned as they spun in place.

‘And your punishment?’

‘For what?’

‘Using your magic.’

Martin finally made the connection. ‘Oh! Umm. I got yelled at?’

Theresa rolled her eyes. ‘Oh yes, the punishment of the youngest. Never a punishment at all.’

‘Hey!’ He glared at her and she dipped him in revenge.

********

It was almost sad for Martin, packing up his life and moving out of his home of many years. But then he remembered it was a dump and nothing compared to the home he was soon to have with Theresa.

God, Theresa. Beautiful, lovely, kind Theresa who had not only managed to somehow love him but even seemed to be _proud_ of her poor, stammering pilot boyfriend.

No, fiancé. The fact that she had agreed to marry him hadn’t sunk in no matter how many times he said it over and over to himself. Even now, as he packed up his life for her, he had to keep repeating it to himself.

‘Martin, what’s this?’ Theresa tapped at a box, carefully hidden under Martin’s bed, breaking him out of his thoughts.

‘Oh!’ Martin dropped the box he had been about to carry downstairs and moved to her side. Slowly, he pulled the old cardboard box out while Theresa squinted at the messy writing on its side.

‘Dad?’ She read out and Martin nodded as he placed the box reverently on the bed.

‘Yes Dad. My Dad. His things.’ Martin ran a hand over the lid of the box. ‘I couldn’t stand to look at them after he died...but I also...’ He trailed off.

Theresa picked his sentence up. ‘You also could not stand to throw them away.’ She placed her hand beside Martin’s. ‘Can you stand to look at them now?’

Martin nodded. ‘Yes. Okay.’ He grabbed the pair of scissors on the bed and carefully cut through the tape on the box. He opened it gently, reaching in to pull out his Dad’s appointment book. He laughed.

‘Martin?’ Theresa asked as he took a seat on the bed and began to flip through it. ‘What is that?’

‘Dad’s appointment book. He always wrote every little thing down so he would never miss anything. And- aha!’ Martin pointed to the note under the first Monday in March. ‘He was always silly about personal appointments.’

‘“ _Food fight with Martin; 1pm.”_ ’.’ She read. ‘Food fight?’

‘Lunch. Coffee was always “ _Caffeine and Company; Remember Martin is Company_ ”.’ Martin smiled. ‘And he would make notes about his clients that always made me laugh. As a kid I used to borrow his book just to read all the things he wrote. I think he knew...there were more notes as I got older.’ Martin sniffed, blinking away the tear forming.

Theresa took the book from him, closed it and put an arm around him. ‘Martin-’ She started to say, her voice full of sympathy.

Martin cut her off. ‘What else is there?’ He said aloud as he reached into the box. His hand hit plastic and he pulled out his Dad’s multimeter. ‘Oh come on. I thought I got rid of this!’

‘A multimeter?’ Theresa took it from him.

‘Dad’s multimeter. He left it to me, along with the van.’ Martin glared at it. ‘Just one more way for him to ‘encourage’ me to give up flying.’

‘I thought he supported you.’ Theresa turned it over and was examining the back of it by running her hands over it.

‘He did. Just, towards the end he looked at me with this _look_ and I knew he was wondering why I kept bothering.’ Martin sighed and took the multimeter off Theresa. ‘It doesn’t even work.’ He muttered as he noticed the back was sitting funny.

‘You tried it?’ Martin barely noticed Theresa had spoken, too focused on getting the back off this stupid thing.

It finally clicked off. ‘Got it.’ He said pleased as a letter fell into his lap. Martin blinked down at it, then met Theresa’s equally surprised eyes. ‘That wasn’t there before.’ He said and she smiled.

‘I can tell. Are you going to read it?’

‘Oh. Yes?’ She laughed again and took the multimeter off him as he picked up the letter. ‘ _“Dear Martin-”_ It’s from Dad!’

‘Read it then!’

Martin nodded and focused on the letter, drinking in the sight of the handwriting he had nearly forgotten.

_Dear Martin,_

_I just finished writing my will, and I realised that there was so much more I wanted to say but I couldn’t find the words to say it. I think I have them now; though I doubt they’ll ever be enough._

_I know I don’t have long. The doctors keep talking about keeping my hopes up but there’s a point where hoping won’t do anything. I just want to hang around long enough to see you pass your licence and get your first flying job but I’m terrified that I might not have much more time._

_I just want you to know how proud I am of you. You were the most stubborn child but you had the courage to turn that stubbornness into determination to see your dreams through. I wish I had had your courage; I might have been able to do what you did and will do and follow my dreams. But then I might not have had you and your siblings and I would not trade that experience for the world._

_But I do know how hard chasing your dreams can be. So I’ve left you the van and my tools, in the hope that if you are ever forced back to Earth, you’ll have something to support yourself until you can prove them wrong and fly again. That’s worth more than any money would ever be._

_You always were meant to fly._

_Love,_

_Dad_

Martin read the letter twice, scarcely believing what he had just read. Then he wordlessly passed it to Theresa to read while he buried his head in his hands. His hands became wet but it took him a moment to realise he was crying.

‘Martin-’

‘It’s dated the day he died.’ Martin cut Theresa off. ‘Mum found him in the living room, the multimeter on the dining room table. We could never figure out what possessed him to get the sodding thing out of his van.’ Martin took a deep and shaky breath. ‘He died of a heart attack you know? He had _cancer_ and it was a _heart attack_ that killed him. I barely got to the hospital in time to say goodbye. ’

‘I know.’ Theresa pulled his head from his hands then pulled him into a hug so he could cry into her chest instead. ‘He loved you.’

‘I think writing that letter was the last thing he ever did.’ Martin whispered. ‘And for so long I thought he was disappointed in me.’

Theresa didn’t say anything, just held Martin as he cried. Then, when all the tears were gone, she helped him carefully put the letter back where it had been and pack the multimeter carefully into his Dad’s van.

The multimeter would take a place of pride on their mantelpiece forever, a fitting protection for the thing it contained.

**Author's Note:**

> The flowers in the grave scene all had basic meanings of sorrow/mourning. But specifics are:
> 
> Carnations: Pink is remembrance, Red is Admiration. They're often found at funerals (from [here](http://www.teleflora.com/sympathy-plants-flower-types-meaning-symbolism.asp))
> 
> Hyacinths: Purple means deep feeling of sadness/asking for forgiveness (from [here](http://www.auntyflo.com/flower-dictionary/purple-hyacinth))
> 
> Calendula: Sorrow
> 
> Anemone: Forsaken, unfading love (both from [here](http://www.thesecretgardenflowers.co.uk/flower-meanings.html))


End file.
